


Yours

by saaarebas



Category: Hemlock Grove
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood Drinking, Blowjobs, It's basically just porn, M/M, On BOTH SIDES, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessiveness, probably...canon compliant.., sex with feelings, some dom/sub elements i guess?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-20
Updated: 2016-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-10 00:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7823980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saaarebas/pseuds/saaarebas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Roman is possessive, and Peter returns the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Yours

**Author's Note:**

> My first work ever for these two. Hopefully I got it somewhat in character! I basically just wrote this to expunge my feelings, and then posted because there's a fearful lack of these two out there. So yeah! Let me know if you like it—or if you hate it. 
> 
> EDIT: thanks for 1k!

Peter shoved Roman against the wall and kissed him roughly. “Fuck, why are you wearing so many clothes?” Peter muttered, trailing love bites down Roman’s pale neck. 

Roman laughed quietly. “Desperate much?”

Peter stopped and shook his head with a smile. “Fuck you.” He pulled Roman’s shirt out of his pants and raked blunt nails down his happy trail. Roman hissed, half-hard already in his pants. 

“Shit, Peter, at least let me get my shirt off.” Peter groaned and stepped back reluctantly. His eyes were a darker blue than Roman had ever seen them. Roman could see his hard-on through his pants and let out a huff of amusement. Ever since they had started fucking a few weeks ago, they’d barely stopped for breath. 

Peter scowled. “You’d get a better look if my clothes were off.”

Roman unbuttoned his shirt carefully. “Don’t need to.” He tapped his temple and winked lasciviously. “It’s all in here.”

“Pervert.” 

Roman slid off his shirt and let it crumple to the floor. Peter stripped off his ratty t-shirt in return, let it fall, and laughed. “Really? Your clothes are monogrammed?”

Roman stalked over, a strand of his slicked back hair falling in his face. “I like people to know that what’s mine...” He squeezed Peter’s hips with his hands and bit down lightly on his neck. “...is mine.” 

Peter shivered. “Fuck.” He tangled a hand in Roman’s hair and let him bite a path down to the zipper of his jeans. “How does… how does it feel to–aw, fuck–to have your name on everything?”

Roman paused, his eyes heavy and lidded. He looked up at Peter through his lashes and slowly unbuckled the other boy’s belt. “Not everything.” He stood up and cupped Peter’s dick through his boxers. Peter ground his hips against him and whined softly, his head banging against the wall behind him. Roman smiled and stepped back. He crossed to the desk in the corner of the room and retrieved something from a drawer underneath. 

“Lube?” Peter guessed. 

Roman stood up. “Nope.” He gave Peter a chaste kiss, nothing more than a brush of lips. Then , he sunk to his knees. A jolt of electricity runs down Peter’s spine. Here he is, in the Godfreys’ mansion, with the spoiled Godfrey heir down on his knees for him. It made the blood rush to his dick to think about what Olivia would say if she knew exactly who was leaving hickies on her precious son. 

He looked down at Roman and stroked his cheekbone. “Are you gonna tease me or blow me?” 

Roman laughed and laid a hand on Peter’s hip. “Neither, actually.” He uncapped a sharpie and brought the tip to the strip of exposed skin above Peter’s jeans. Roman scribbled out the words ‘Property of Roman Godfrey’ in his block-letter scrawl and underlined it, twice. 

Peter took a sharp breath. “Shit. Fuck, that’s hot.” 

“Lucky for you, Rumancek, I take good care of what’s mine.” Roman pulled down Peter’s jeans along with his boxers and wrapped a hand around Peter’s dick. He looked up at Peter through his lashes and slowly took the tip into his mouth. Peter swore lightly in Romani. He was by no means a blushing virgin but with Roman, it was like he’s just a horny fifteen year old coming in his pants. The man had lips made for sucking cock, it’s not Peter’s fault. 

Roman circled the tip with his tongue and Peter whined softly. Roman shouldn’t have been able to smirk with Peter’s cock in his mouth, but he gave Peter a look that couldn’t be anything but. He bobbed up and down on Peter’s cock, using his hand to jerk off what he couldn’t fit in his mouth. Roman’s hand felt so good on his cock, the slight pressure bringing him closer to the edge. Peter knotted a hand in his hair and tugged lightly. Roman moaned around his cock, and Peter felt sparks of arousal fly through his stomach. “ _ Fuck, _ Roman.” He was close, he could feel it, the tightness in his stomach, the tingling in his fingers.

Roman pulled off of Peter’s cock with a soft  _ pop _ , and picked up his pace. Peter was panting, strings of swear words tumbling out of his mouth without his permission. “Come on, Peter, come in my fucking mouth.” 

And with those words, Peter came hard, his legs shaking from the force of his orgasm. 

When he was done, Roman swallowed and wiped come from the corner of his mouth. He put his hand on Peter’s heaving chest and smiled smugly. “Mine.” 

 

The next week was busy, full of assignments and tests and group projects. Despite their best attempts, Peter and Roman had been unable to see each other outside of a few minutes in between classes. Peter probably would have been fine, was he not suffering from an extreme case of blue balls. Everytime he changed his shirt or showered, he saw Roman’s block-letter writing against his skin. It had faded to a grey-blue, but was still noticeable enough that he couldn’t go bare chested around his own goddamn house. 

Fucking Roman. And every time he read ‘Property of Roman Godfrey’, he wanted to fuck Roman stupid so he knows he belongs to Peter too. So he knows they belong to each other.  _ Fucking Roman.  _

Peter was moody, irritable and distracted. When Peter found himself leaving English to jerk off in the bathroom over images of Roman’s smirky grin, he knew it had to stop. 

 

“Enough’s enough, Godfrey.” Peter took a bite of an apple and threw himself down on the grass beside Roman. It was lunchtime, the sun shining high above them.

“Of what?” said Roman. He lit a cigarette, but pulled out a second when he saw Peter sit down. He let out a puff of smoke and handed the other cigarette to Peter. Peter watched the way Roman’s lips curve around the cigarette, the way his cheeks hollow as he sucked in smoke. Fucking Roman.

Peter took a drag. “Fuck studying. Come over to my house tonight.” 

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Is this a fucking booty call?”

He rolled his eyes. “What else would it be?” 

 

The Rumanceks’ trailer was small, certainly, but Peter never found it as stifling before as he did then. He sat on the edge of the couch cushion and bounced his leg, fingers drumming a half-hearted beat on his kneecap. “Fuck.” Peter lit a cigarette and exhaled a smoke ring. He wasn’t nervous, not exactly, but there was a restless current running through his body. It reminded him of the day of the full moon, the way he feels too big and too small for his skin. 

There was a knock on the door, a series of complicated taps that were unmistakably Roman. “It’s open,” he called softly, the end of the cigarette burning a hole in the fast falling darkness.

Roman pushed open the screen door and held his arms out laughingly. “Here I am, to ravish you.” He caught Peter’s gaze and cocked his head. “Or maybe the other way around?” 

Peter stood up and crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. He breached the distance between them in a few strides and crowded up against him.“Roman Godfrey,” he said, fingers working to undo the other boy’s shirt. “You are  _ such  _ a fucking prick.” Each word was punctuated by a hard tug on the fabric till it tore away cleanly at the seams and fell to floor.

Roman shoved lightly at Peter’s shoulders, but there was no real heat in his face. “Fuck you, Rumancek, that was expensive.”

Peter shrugged. “You’ll buy another.” He pulled Roman in for a searing kiss, one that was all teeth and hot breath and pure fucking arousal. Peter’s hands went up of their own accord, tangling in Roman’s slick hair and pulling. Roman let out a breathy noise that went straight to Peter’s dick. He slid a hand down to the crest of his shoulder blade and dug his nails into the skin in a way that made Roman’s back arch against him.

“Fuck, Peter, not here,” Roman said hoarsely, as Peter began to nip at his jawline. He sighed heavily and dropped his head to rest on the taller boy’s shoulder. As much as he didn’t want to move, it was probably a better idea to continue -this- in his bedroom. He stepped away reluctantly and pulled Roman along with him towards his room.

Once inside, they gravitated back to each other like they always had, Peter pressing bruising kisses along Roman’s jawline. His teeth grazed the skin lightly and Roman shuddered. His hands roamed down the muscles of Peter’s back, feeling the grooves left by long-healed wounds. Suddenly, Peter broke away from the kiss and pushed Roman down onto the bed, more of a suggestion than with any actual force. 

Roman sat back on the bed and watched Peter. He was fascinated by the boy’s brand of feral grace. Roman guessed that the feeling would never go away. Everything Peter did was intoxicating; sometimes Roman felt obsessed. In front of him, Peter stripped off his shirt and stretched, slow and languid. Roman’s dick twitched watching his muscles ripple. There was a dark dusting of hair that lead down into Peter’s pants and he wanted  _ so badly _ to trace it with his tongue. 

Peter leaned forward and mussed up Roman’s slicked hair, a gesture of boyish, almost friendly affection. Roman smiled, a rare full smile that wasn’t his Godfrey smirk. He reached out and let his hand rest on Peter’s hip, then trail down slowly to his zipper. Peter hissed under his breath. “Woah,” breathed Roman softly. “It’s still there.” 

Just below Peter’s navel sat the faded remnants of ‘Property of Roman Godfrey’. Roman traced over the letters with his fingers with something like awe on his face. Peter cursed silently. Roman was looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. It made Peter feel something he didn’t want to have to look at, so he straddled Roman’s lap and brought their mouths together.

God, Peter would never get used to this. The soft warmth of Roman’s full lips, the way he moaned into his mouth when Peter ground his hips down. Their cocks slid against each other through the fabric of their pants, and Roman bit back a groan. “Shit, you’re so hot.” He fumbled with the clasp of Peter’s pants. 

“Here, let me.” Roman shifted backwards till he was lying on the bed, propped half up on his elbows. He watched with lidded eyes as Peter pulled down his pants. His erection made a tent in his soft cotton briefs, which Peter shucked too after a moment’s thought. He climbed onto the bed and crawled over to Roman, settling himself in the v of his thighs. Peter walked his fingers up his thigh, comically slow, grinning at the pained expression on Roman’s face. 

“Don’t be a fucking tease, Jesus, Peter.” Roman glared down at him in a parody of annoyance. The bulge in his pants clearly undermined his words of reproach. 

Peter snorted, and begins to undo Roman’s pants. “Coming from you.” He wriggled Roman’s jeans and boxers down low enough to free his cock, and Roman let his head tilt back onto the pillows. 

Peter gave the head of Roman’s cock an experimental lick. Roman’s hips jerked and he swore, something filthy and half-muttered. Peter kept licking, little kitten licks across the head and down the shaft. Peter looked up at Roman through his lashes and watched his chest rise and fall. Roman’s panting, almost, his face flushed with heat. Peter ducked down and took the tip of Roman’s cock into his mouth, swirling his tongue around the head. He felt fingers tangle through his hair, not pulling, just..there. 

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Roman’s breath hitched as Peter swallowed more of him down. Peter was doing him sloppy, letting saliva roll down what little of his cock was exposed. Roman rubbed a thumb across the corner of Peter’s mouth, feeling the stretch around him and the suction. He dropped his hand to the bedspread, where Peter’s free hand caught his and tangled their fingers together. There was a fluttering in Roman’s stomach that wasn’t to do with the epic blowjob he was receiving. 

Suddenly, Peter lowered his mouth on Roman’s cock till it hits the back of his throat and his nose pressed into Roman’s pubic hair. Roman’s fingers curled in Peter’s hair and his hips jerked upwards of their own accord. Peter pulled back after a beat and settled for bobbing up and down, letting Roman thrust upwards into the heat of his mouth. He was close, could barely stop himself from coming when Peter moaned around his cock like he was fucking loving it. 

Luckily, he seemed to know how close Roman was and pulled off with an obscene pop, strands of spit connecting him to Roman’s dick. It was the most debauched thing he’d ever seen, Peter lying there like that, with his lips all red and his mouth hanging open. There was spit down his chin and he didn’t bother to wipe it away before he pulled Roman’s pants clean off. 

Peter shifted forwards till he could kiss Roman on his pretty mouth. It started off gentle, but quickly became more passionate, claiming, almost violent. How it should be, thought Roman in satisfaction. Peter is the only person Roman felt he could trust with the other side of him, the upir. He hoped Peter felt the same about the wolf. 

“I do.” said Peter, breaking away and resting his forehead on Roman’s. “Trust you with the wolf, I mean.” Somehow he knew what Roman was thinking, which was barely a surprise. “That’s why I let you watch me change. I knew you wanted to, and I knew-I knew I could.” 

Roman felt a surge of affection for Peter,  _ his  _ Peter, his wolf. He pulled him down for another kiss and snaked his hand down to curl around Peter’s cock. Peter whined softly, sounding eerily like the wolf, and that just made Roman harder. “Fuck me.”

Peter stilled, then reached over to the bedside table. “Y-eah, yeah, just lemme get the lub–”

Roman grasped his wrist and shook his head. “No, don’t be a tease, yeah? Just fuck me.” 

Peter gaped at him slowly. “But don’t you need to prep—Roman, it’ll hurt.”

“Good.” Roman shrugged up at him and Peter could see traces of the creature he really was behind his smile. “C’mon, just fuck me, yeah? Don’t be a fucking pussy, just fuck me, I want it to hurt.” His voice was scratchy, like he couldn’t catch his breath. 

Peter lowered himself down and pulled one of Roman’s legs over his shoulder. He positioned himself at Roman’s tight hole, kissed the inside of his thigh, and pushed in.

There was a grunt, and a sharp intake of breath. Peter waited for the exhale but it didn’t come, just silence stretching on. He looked up at Roman, whose face was contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain. His cock had wilted slightly, so Peter palmed it gently, stroked it until it was hard again, all the while not moving a muscle. Roman’s eyes were closed, until suddenly they weren’t, and the green of them was boring into Peter. “C’mon, Peter, fuck me like you mean it.” 

With a start, Peter was moving, pulling out and then thrusting in to the hilt. Soon, they built a rhythm of equal push and pull, the way they always did, meeting each other halfway. Roman was so tight and hot, Peter could come right then, but he wanted to wait, wanted to make sure it was good for Roman too, so he held on. 

For Roman, the drag was almost too much. He could feel every centimetre of Peter inside him, every minute movement. He thought he could feel Peter’s pulse. It felt good, but the pain was even better, searing and new and comfortingly real. Peter shifted his angle and it was suddenly a thousand times better, as the head of his cock hit a spot that made the world melt away. 

“Harder, more, Peter, more, more,” said Roman, barely above a whisper. His nails curled against Peter’s back, and dug in as Peter thrusted harder, hitting his prostate straight on. Roman could feel liquid drip off his fingers and brought one to his mouth. The taste of Peter’s blood was amazing, even as he hated himself for thinking it. He sucked every drop off his fingers and from under his nails, and it was not enough but he tried to lose himself in the way Peter was panting in his ear.

Roman tipped his head back, barely noticing the sounds that spilled out of his mouth, just repetitive pathetic whimpers. Peter’s cock felt so good in him, filled him completely, but he wanted more of him inside him. Roman wanted Peter’s blood and his heart and everything about him. Roman almost wanted to eat him, consume and be consumed so they’ll never be less complete than this. 

Instead, he brought his hands up to Peter’s hair and tugs, which made Peter moan. “Fuck, Roman, you’re so good-so tight. Baby, need you to come.” He ground out, thrusting faster. “What can I do?”

Roman couldn’t even think. How was Peter even forming sentences? All he could think about was the slide and drag of Peter’s dick inside him, and the sounds he was making, and, fuck, the pulse he could  _ feel  _ thundering under Peter’s skin. 

“Please what?” asked Peter, brow furrowed. Roman realized he had been chanting “please, please, Peter, please” as Peter thrust into him. Roman touched Peter’s neck with the hand that wasn’t in his hair and traced, ghost-light, over the bulge of his jugular. He couldn’t make himself to say it out loud, couldn’t say the words to  _ Peter _ , the one person he couldn’t handle thinking of him badly.

Luckily, Peter knew exactly what he’s asking for, understood, like he always had. “Do it,” he grunted, palming Roman’s dick in his calloused hand. “Do it, Roman, I don’t care, I want you to. Do it.” And Roman let go of his self-control, the beast he’d been reining in the whole time, and bit down on Peter’s neck. Not hard enough to draw blood, at first, but then sharpened canines shot out and Roman broke the skin. 

Peter sped up his thrusts, stroking Roman’s cock in time. The pain he’d felt was quickly fading, replaced by a different kind of hurt, a good hurt that made his dick twitch inside Roman. A few more thrusts, and Peter’s coming, couldn’t stop himself if he tried, and a minute later, Roman came hot in his hand, whimpering his release. 

Soon, Peter pulled out slowly and flopped onto his back beside Roman. His neck ached dully and his skin was covered with a sheen of sweat. Also, his hand and stomach were covered in come, but he could wait to clean it up. He looked over and Roman was lying, still as the dead. His face was covered in Peter’s blood and it was the most wrong and most erotic thing Peter had seen in awhile. 

Roman opened his eyes after catching his breath to see Peter staring at him, a strange expression on his face. Self-conscious, suddenly, he wiped his hand across his mouth and it came away streaked with blood. There was a flip in Roman’s stomach and he felt sick at what he’d done to Peter. The worst part was, the bite mark was still oozing a few drops of blood and Roman wanted to lick them away, to bite and drink until he was full of Peter and Peter was full of him. “Peter..I..”

But Peter was still silent, his eyes locked on Roman’s face. He looked wrecked. “I..” He shook his head and Roman steeled himself for the inevitable rejection, the disgust. “That was fucking hot.” 

The relief was almost as good as his orgasm. Roman let his head back, his eyes droop. “Best sex of my life.” Peter snorted his agreement, and Roman paused, choosing his words carefully. “Peter, I...why’d you let me–I thought you’d say no.” It was a weird sort of curiosity, like the urge to put your hands on a hot stove. Roman had a feeling in his balls that whatever Peter was going to say was going to make this so much more complicated.

Peter sighed, then rolled onto his side and pulled Roman closer. “When have I ever said no to you?” Roman opened his mouth, then fell silent. Peter sounded exhausted, and Roman thought he’d fallen asleep, until he felt Peter carding his fingers through his hair. It was almost like petting, almost loving, and it was... nice. Peter stared at him, then nuzzled into Roman’s neck. He buried his nose in the skin on Roman’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, smelling Roman’s cologne and sweat and Peter’s blood and that faint smell of lightning. “Can’t get that with anyone else, can you?” 

Roman shook his head, pulled a cigarette out of his pack on the bedside table. “Just you,” he said, and it was true. 

“Just me,” said Peter sleepily. He tapped on Roman’s chest, right above his steel, unbeating heart. “Mine.” Then he fell quiet. 

Silently, in the dark, Roman agreed. 


End file.
